Once Upon A Dream
by HC247
Summary: Dreams can be fickle mistresses, as Erik well knows. This time, however, it's personal - and there will be hell to pay...or will there? Written for TimeBird's "Things I Dreamt Last Night" challenge/prompt on Tumblr.


My contribution for Timebird84's _**#things I dreamt last night challenge**_ on Tumblr. It's a little different, a little quirky, a bit silly. Still, I hope you enjoy.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcomed and much appreciated!

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Erik was twitchy this morning.**  
**

With a labored sigh, Christine poured two cups of tea before replacing the kettle on the stove. Adding a lump of sugar to her own cup with a quick flick of her wrist, she hesitated slightly before dumping three into the other. Erik tended to like his tea sweeter these days; sometimes even going as far as to smile briefly when he tasted it, somehow improving his overall disposition.

Erik _was_ twitchy this morning…

Even more so than normal.

Which could only mean the dreams had returned.

Christine bit her lip and added another lump for good measure.

Frankly, she would need all the help she could get.

She knew she should be used to his habits by now. By nature, her husband was a man of many mysteries and despite myriad attempts on her part, there were a great lot of them that Christine learned she would never discover and she was content to accept her life with him as it presently was.

Most of the time.

Other times, to put it bluntly, it drove her stark-raving mad.

Could he not see how_ bloody frustrating _it was when he ignored her attempts to understand? When he awoke with screams in the middle of the night from nightmares of a past she couldn't conceive, startling both of them out of a deep sleep? When he carelessly brushed aside her soothing words and touches in favor of stalking to the music room and barricading himself inside until his mind cleared?

He, who was the first to comfort her over the smallest inconvenience and insisted that she bare her soul the moment he felt something might be upsetting her, had completely closed himself off to any measure of comfort she might offer. She was his _wife_, for heaven's sakes; for better or for worse.

Christine allowed herself a sip of tea, breathing in it's heady aroma. She had half a mind to drag Erik before the priest again to educate him fully on the extent of his wedding vows.

Even as she chuckled slightly at the thought, she knew it would still be for naught. Her husband would divulge his mind and his secrets in his own time and in his own way. There were some things that even she could not draw out of him completely.

In his favor, the dreams _had_ lessened since their wedding. Perhaps with time…

Footsteps approached.

In the five seconds it took for her husband to appear in the kitchen, looking every inch of the menacing Phantom down to swirling cloak and fedora in hand, Christine had transferred both cups to the table already laid full with jam and bread, and seated herself with an indulgent smile as she met Erik's icy stare.

The very picture of a supportive wife.

"Good morning, darling!"_ Goodness, but that did sound a bit forced, didn't it?_

As usual, if he did have any suspicion, he gave nothing away, although his expression did relax slightly when he saw her. "All of this? Christine, you are too good to me." Brushing a kiss to her cheek, he swept past her, managing to pluck his teacup from the table in passing.

Her eyes tracked him as he moved about the small kitchen. "Did you sleep well?

One shoulder lifted elegantly into a half-shrug. "No worse than normal." He threw a glance over his shoulder, presenting her with only the cold indifference of the mask. "Why?"

"Oh.." An airy tone accented by a careless wave of her palm. "No particular reason. Only that you seemed a bit… restless during the night." In a quieter voice, she added. "I simply am…concerned that you are not getting adequate rest."

He scoffed, turning his back to her again. "Do not concern yourself with such trivial matters as my sleep schedule, my dear." Draining the tea, he gave a murmur of appreciation. "I assure you, it is nothing I have not dealt with for the better part of my life."

Christine pinched the bridge of her nose on a long exhale. "Erik," she said again, her voice saccharine-sweet. "I should like to eat breakfast _with_ my husband, not staring at his back." He turned at that, following her pointed gaze to the chair before meeting her eyes. "That is, if you would be so kind as to join me?"

Erik blinked, but did as she asked, having the good graces to look slightly chastised as he folded his lanky frame into the seat across from her, allowing a slight smile as her fingers instinctively knotted with his on the tabletop. "My apologies, Christine, It seems my thoughts have run ahead of my manners this morning."

When he offered no further explanation, she tightened her grip, anchoring him to her. "Have the dreams returned?"

A bitter laugh around blackberry jam was his answer. "Would that they ever leave." Swallowing, he shrugged again. "Although what plagued me last night is one that can be rectified easily enough."

Why did he seem just a bit _too _optimistic about that particular fact? "Erik, what is this about? What can be solved so simply from one of your nightmares?"

The visible brow rose. "Why do I feel as though you are about to scold me as a child?"

"Perhaps because that is what you deserve," she shot back, eyes narrowing as he released her hand and reached for the butter. The slight shift of his movements was enough to give her a glimpse inside of his cloak and she felt her eyes widen, then sharpen to pinpoints. "Erik, what are you doing with _that_?"

Unaffected, he withdrew the lasso and held it gently in his hands. "Nothing of consequence," he replied, depositing it back into whatever hidden pocket lay beneath. "I simply need to see to a few things on my rounds this morning."

"I thought we had an agreement."

"We do," he acknowledged with a slight dip of his head. "However, extenuating circumstances have presented themselves which makes this particular…tool necessary."

"I see. And what are these "extenuating circumstances' that require such drastic measures as your lasso?"

_Silence_

"Erik?"

"…You would not understand."

Christine leveled her chin on her palm. "Try me."

Across from her, Erik lifted his chin, fingers curling into his cloak, his voice soothing and seething all at once. "I know what happened, Christine. You need only to say that word and revenge will be had. You may put on a brave face, my dear, but this seditious behavior will not be tolerated in **_my_** opera house."

She stared at him across the table, opened her mouth, then closed it on a humorless chuff. "Revenge? What is this about? Erik, you're not making any sense."

He huffed. "Those insufferable managers, of course. I heard them berating you last night, my dear, and you can be certain that they will come to deeply regret their actions."

Christine's brow knit together as she struggled to recall the events in question. "Monsieurs Andre and Firman have always been kind to me," she replied. "Are you certain?"

Another indignant huff with an exasperated glare for good measure. "Do you mean to tell me I am able to recall events that you were the present subject of while you cannot? While _you _were experiencing it firsthand"

If one could blink incredulously, she was certain she had mastered it by now. "Erik,I experienced no such thing! I was here last night. As were you. For the _entire evening_…" Comprehension dawned when he refused to meet her eyes and irritation sparked on her face. "That was your dream, wasn't it? That's why you're so oddly calm- because you think you can fix this!"

He shrugged. "A far better solution that normal, in my opinion."

"It was a dream, Erik!" Christine exclaimed, rising from her seat. "A false manifestation of your subconscious, my love. All is well because it never _happened_"

He followed her with a petulant scoff. "That they have the gall to question any combination of your talent and my genius is offense enough. Whether in reality or dream. Regardless, they shall pay."

Christine scrubbed a hand over her face as she tried again. "Erik, you will not kill, injure or maim the managers because they reprimanded me or my performance in a dream- or at all, for that matter."

Lurching forward, one small hand came to rest on her hip while the other found a home on his shoulder even as brown coupled with grey-green in a stormy collision. "This is madness, even for you!" Promise me you won't do what I think you've set your mind to with that lasso."

He swallowed. "Christine.."

"Now, Erik."

His eyes dropped to his lap as he conceded, begrudgingly. "As you wish, dearest. Although, exposure to just a few minutes of unconsciousness would not be too harsh and yet still prove a point…"

"Erik…"

"Oh, all right. But what about a minor scenery drop? Just enough to scare…"

"No, Erik. They've done nothing at all to deserve your ire.""

He snorted. "Today, perhaps. And yet the day is still young and they are so very annoying…"

"Erik."

"But Christine….."

_"No!"_

_"Fine!"_

"…"

"…A mildly threatening note?"

_"Erik!"_

"One! Just to set them in their proper place."

She sighed. "I'm fairly certain they're well aware of that fact already."

The visible brow lifted. "Still, it might do them some good to be reminded."

Christine studied him for a moment, then deflated. "If it will make you feel better…"

"Excellent!" Pulling her to him in a flash of movement, he pressed an enthusiastic kiss to her stunned lips before bounding to his study like an overeager child. "I shall kindly remind them that it is only by your gracious spirit that they have been shown mercy."

"Something tells me it would be just as well to leave that part out," she called weakly before slumping into the chair again. Her eyes slid shut with a weary shake of her head, lips quirking despite herself.

_As much as I love him, that man is going to be the death of me._

Her husband appeared again she opened her eyes, this time with a spring in his step and a mad glimmer in his eyes. In one hand, he clutched an envelope, sealed with the infamous red wax. He caught her fingers with his free hand, pressing a fast kiss on her knuckles with a half-smile as he swept himself away to deliver his missive.

As the door closed behind him, Christine helped herself to another cup of tea, adding some extra jam to her toast with a decisive sigh.

Be that as it may, she could certainly think of worse ways to go.


End file.
